More ripping and running and gunning, late as the White Rabbit and then annoyed as Alice in front of a Cheshire Cat. But even noticing things is no guarantee of freedom, ease or liberty. I was a little luckier today than before, surrounded by less luckier folk and keenly aware. Tomorrow? As always.
Make me a day where I’m full of requirements, pulled in several different directions, greeting folks familiar from prior scenes and digging through things, filling out forms and walking in circles without respite, and tell me the day’s been almost thirty years, and hand me a drink to toast it.
Two towns over from home, clear early skies gave way to tongues of mist, with a wall of the soupy stuff sticking to the interstate until clearing up at the bridge itself. Checking the forecast at the office yielded a dense fog advisory that let the skyline play peekaboo off and on into late morning.
It wasn’t a good walk spoiled, so much as complicated. I wasn’t setting any records, but I had to keep moving around if I wanted to pay the right kind of attention. Wandering isn’t always immediately productive, but it’s almost always the point; a lot distracts, but just enough gets things done.
Fog rolled deep, socking in the ride along the reservoir before easing up on our way inland, then murking up the plunge down from the tunnel, walling in the bridge into the city, then evaporating when I looked up at midday before slow dragging across the skyline as evening slid down like an eyelid.
Stayed in, out of trouble and off the street, all too aware of the odds I’ll be following some folk one way or another tomorrow or soon after. Just cloudy enough not to see much when the time was right, but a few signs that those who tried got something for their efforts. That’ll have to be enough.
North along the interstate, over a bridge and into and through a town I rarely visit, and then to one I went to once, chasing law enforcement transparency of all things. There, we found a roadway with our name and, not far or long after, packages to take (and maybe remake) home with a little help.
Intense memories, from the trash can on the truck’s side, to old coworkers, to the woman rolling down her window to yell about letting her over, to the blue and white peeling paint on the wall next to the similarly partly sunny sky on my way back from the neighborhood I’d not been to in a minute.
I feel like I keep leaning into a few things because I find they work and hope they’re useful. I need to spend more time pruning things (not to mention the Other Stuff), but also more time separate from on-the-clock production. Off to the More Time Store I go, as soon as someone points out the way.
Unsettled skies and uneven altitudes today, even looking at parts of the horizon and seeing uneven applications of clouds. Ha: “clouds” and “applications”! But also a couple of rides in backseats with rare-for-me views, leaving me snapping images like a tourist in this town.
